


gold medal game

by frausorge



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Sliding Through the Crease: A Hockey Hipster Ships Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sid doesn't think about the night of the gold medal game if he can help it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gold medal game

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt (also used as the summary here) by fic_kitty in [Sliding Through the Crease: A Hockey Hipster Ships Ficathon](http://daisysusan.livejournal.com/243396.html?thread=1163972&).

Sid doesn't get drunk the night of the gold medal game. Everyone seems to expect him to, and people have been shoving cups at him all night, but he never gets more than a mouthful before someone else tackles him, and he doesn't really care. He doesn't need it- he's flying even without it, just sailing along on the _goal_ , the _medal_ , the _win_. They _won_. They won.

People keep hugging him, slinging their arms around him, scrubbing their palms over his head, and he doesn't mind that either. He tries, whenever he gets a chance, to congratulate the other guys, to thank them and make sure they know they did good. At one point he fetches up next to Hayley Wickenheiser and spends ten minutes earnestly telling her the same thing, because fuck, she and her team won too, and they were _awesome_. That's the longest conversation he manages all night, though. People keep grabbing him, tugging at him, pulling and shoving him, and he grins, can't stop grinning, because they won. 

Bergeron sends him off with a slap on the back that's so hard Sid stumbles under it. He's laughing, still, lightheaded, nearly dizzy with it, and he can't quite get his footing back until a strong hand lands on his hip and steadies him.

"Iggy!" Sid says. 

Jarome smiles at him, a warm, happy smile. "Hey, Sid," he says. 

"You won _again_ ," Sid says, because Jarome has been at the Olympics before, has _won gold_ at the Olympics before, and how amazing is that? Sid sat and watched Jarome on TV when he was 14, watched him scoring goals in a gold medal game. Now Sid has played in a gold medal game with Jarome, they scored the game-winning goal together, and how amazing is that?

Jarome gives Sid's side a squeeze, still grinning. "Yeah," he says. "We did good, huh?"

Sid nods emphatically, and sways a little.

"Hey, you wanna sit down for a bit?"

"Yes," Sid says, because that suddenly sounds like an excellent idea.

Jarome guides Sid over to a couch. There's only one open spot, but it doesn't matter, because Jarome takes it and then tugs Sid down into his lap. Sid laughs and drops his head back onto Jarome's shoulder. The room is hot and dark and loud and people still keep coming, squeezing his hands and shaking his shoulders and poking him in the chest. Flower leans down and kisses Sid on both cheeks, and Jarome's arms hold him steady while Sid grins at them all.

After a long time, the room goes quiet. The people who were making out on the couch next to them get up and go somewhere else, and no one has come over in a while. Sid keeps on smiling to himself regardless. He can't help it. They won.

He draws in a deep breath, shifting a little, and that's when he notices three things. Jarome, with the hand that's wrapped over Sid's chest, is playing with the medal lying there, turning it from side to side and tracing over the relief. Jarome's own medal is digging hard into Sid's shoulderblade. And Jarome's dick is just as hard under Sid's ass. 

_Oh_ , Sid thinks. 

It doesn't take much torque to twist himself around, to slide off the couch to the floor between Jarome's feet. "Sid," Jarome says- just that. Sid kneels up and sets his hands on Jarome's knees. Jarome looks at him for a long moment. Then he wraps his palm around the back of Sid's neck.

With that permission, Sid leans in, gets Jarome's dick out of his pants, and gets his mouth on it. He hasn't done this since he left boarding school, but it's not like you forget how. He has to pull off once or twice to readjust, but once he gets into a rhythm, everything settles and he just feels safe and warm and happy. He's got Jarome's cock filling his mouth, Jarome's thighs bracketing his shoulders, Jarome's hand still resting on his head, and they're all telling Sid he's in the right place at the right time, just like when the two of them were on the ice together.

Jarome's fingers tighten in Sid's hair, and he hisses, "Fuck- Sid-" Then he's coming, and Sid swallows and swallows. Sid is so fucking hard, he wants to come too, but he knows he can't, quite yet. Jarome leans forward, puts two fingers under Sid's chin, and uses them to tilt Sid's face up. Sid closes his eyes and lets himself be kissed.

"Come here," Jarome says. He slides backwards, stretching out lengthwise on the couch, and wrestles Sid back up onto it with him. There's not that much room - Sid's nose is almost at the edge of the cushion - but Jarome's arm over his waist holds him firmly in place, and he knows he won't fall. 

Jarome wraps his fingers around Sid's cock, and Sid closes his eyes again. Jarome's breath rushes warm over Sid's nape, his ear. "Come on, Sid," Jarome tells him, and Sid shudders, gasps, and comes.

 

Sid blinks awake to a weird mix of grey dawn and dim yellow light from the one lamp still on in a corner. _oh my god,_ he thinks. _oh god._ He holds his breath for a second, under the heavy arm still pinning him down. There's gentle snoring behind him, and he really, really has to piss. He slides one foot to the floor, then eases himself forward and clear. The snoring doesn't falter.

There are a couple of sleeping bodies sacked out on the couch across the room and on the floor. Sid doesn't look too closely; he doesn't want to know who they are, nor how long they've been there. He finds the suite's bathroom and gets at least the relief of pissing. After he washes his hands, he splashes water on his face and cups some in his palm to rinse his mouth.

There's a Team Canada jacket crumpled on the floor in the main room. Sid picks it up and puts it on, though the sleeves are far too long for him. He glances back once across the room, then slips out into the silent corridors, down in the elevator, and out, out, out into the cold fresh air.

 

His phone rings while he's packing his bag. "Hello?" he says.

"Hey Sid, it's Jarome," Jarome says.

"Um, hi," Sid says.

"I just wanted to make sure you got back okay."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Good," Jarome says. "I'll see you later then, eh?"

"Yeah, later," Sid echoes.

He puts the phone down and shoves another pair of shoes into the bag, willing his heart rate to slow down.

 

The Flames come to Pittsburgh, and Jarome smiles at Sid on the ice during warmups, the same friendly smile, not a smug one. He smiles again and says, "Hey, Sid," when they skate up to the faceoff circle. Nobody calls Sid a cocksucker any more pointedly than usual.

 

Sid doesn't think about the night of the gold medal game if he can help it. Sometimes, though, when his hand is moving fast, he remembers the feeling of arms around him, hands on him, holding him where he belongs. Then he lets the memory stay until he's done.

 

It's not Sid's place to call any of the shots on trades, of course, but sometimes Ray and Dan will ask him what he thinks about a particular player, just as one more piece of input.

"So, Iginla," Ray says. Sid nods. No one has made any secret about the speculation, so he's had plenty of time to think his answer through.

"Yeah," he says. "I mean, of course."

"We've heard we're on his short list," Dan says. "But do you think he'd fit?" 

"Yeah, I do," Sid says.

"Even if we have to knock Duper off your line?"

Sid nods again. "I think everyone would make it work."

"Hm," says Ray.

 

Jarome walks into the locker room wearing black and gold, and all the guys start hooting and cheering. Eventually, though, they settle down again and get serious about getting ready for practice. 

Jarome pauses next to Sid while Sid's still tying up his laces. "Hey, Sid," he says, and smiles at him, that same warm smile.

Sid takes a deep breath, lifts his head, and smiles back. "Hi," he says.


End file.
